The Curse of Camelot
by Bibliophile109
Summary: Why is Merlin so afraid of revealing his magic? After all, there's not much anyone can do to an all-powerful warlock. Watch as a more mischievous Merlin comes to Camelot, unafraid of showing them how powerful he is. ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

A/N:_ Hello, all you wonderful readers! I'm new to writing fanfiction, but I finally got to it and actually wrote one of those evil plot bunnies. If anyone's interested, I'll continue it-there's so much potential plot :-)_

_Read and Review!_

_Summary: Merlin is supposed to be Emrys, the all-powerful warlock, right? Why is he so afraid of being found out? After all, it's not as if they can do anything to him. Watch a more mischievous Merlin come to Camelot, unafraid of showing them exactly how powerful he is. Sort of Crack!fic._

* * *

Arthur was having a good day at first.

It started off with breakfast with his father and Morgana. Normally the royal family ate alone in their rooms, but Uther was in a particularly good mood this morning. The meal was filled with more polite chatting and discussion than Arthur usually had with his father all week.

Training with his knights went well, too. Most of them had mastered the day's lesson before the time was over, so they had an impromptu competition. Naturally, Arthur won.

Soaking in the congratulations, the prince didn't notice the clamoring crowd until he and his friends arrived at the town square. Standing on his toes for a better look, Arthur's eyebrows shot up as he saw the reason for all the commotion.

"There's a witch-burning today," he told his companions with an irritated frown. This was clearly the reason for his father's good mood earlier, yet it hadn't been mentioned at breakfast. What did Uther think his son would do, insist on beheading the sorcerer himself?

After all, that had only been _once_, and he was twelve, dang it! Was it Arthur's fault that the axe broke _just_ as he was bringing it down?

Now, he had a hard time concealing his irritation as the King began speaking.

"Twenty years ago…" Arthur sighed. The same old speech, the same old routine—he found himself mouthing the words along with his father and mimicking the facial expressions.

xx)0(xx

The monotony was broken up quite suddenly when a young voice cried out from the crowd of onlookers.

"And whose fault is that?"

Arthur quickly rewound his memory. Uther had just come to the part of his speech where he pointed out the many magical attacks on Camelot over the years. Who was challenging him over this? He pushed his way through the mass of bodies and blinked rapidly at what he saw.

A boy about Arthur's age was standing with his arms crossed in the middle of the square, looking up at the King with his head cocked to one side. The King himself looked rather taken aback at the interruption, though his son knew it couldn't last long.

The boy continued speaking. "Is it really the sorcerers' faults that they've been attacking? I mean, yes, killing people is wrong and all that, but you kind of started it, after all."

Now the crowd was muttering nervously at this borderline treason. Uther was making vague sputtering sounds, and Arthur just stared.

"Really, was it necessary to hunt down _every single magic user in the land_ just because your wife's killer was magical? I mean, talk about overkill! You didn't even manage to get the one that killed your wife in the first place!"

The insane young man pointed at the chopping block emphatically. "This is ridiculous! Anyone with a single shred of intelligence would realize that! Now, I'm going to take this…thing…and put it to good use somewhere!"

With that, he strode over to the block of wood and gingerly touched the least blood-stained part. Then, in an instant, the block, axe, and strange boy disappeared.

Arthur's good day had just ended.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: _This took a ridiculous amount of time to write, considering how little is in it. It's longer than the last one, though, which is something. Tell me what you think at the end, please!_

_By the way, do you know how weird it is to like Merlin fanfiction and Harry Potter fanfiction at the same time? I find myself having Arthur say, "Merlin's beard, you're a sorcerer!" or Merlin cursing with "Holy Merlin!". Can we say 'confusing'?_

_Something I forgot last chapter:_

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own Merlin. Surprise, surprise._

* * *

The sorcerer's next appearance came a few days later. Arthur and his knights were once again training, this time with throwing knives, but the focus was more on banter than improving skill.

"Hey, Leon!" Arthur called. "A gold coin says you can't make the bulls-eye from here!"

The older knight grinned and stepped up to take the offered dagger. A single flick of his wrist sent it flying, and it came to a thud, dead center, in the wood circle across the field.

A grinning Leon turned back to the prince. "Two coins say _you_ can't make it from fifty feet!"

The bets continued to grow in value, knights roaring uproariously whenever someone would miss the target. Arthur was twenty coins richer than he already was when a new bet was called.

"I bet thirty coins that you can't hit a moving target, sire!"

Arthur looked around, raising his eyebrows at the man who offered the challenge. "Just _where_ are we going to get a moving target?" he drawled lazily. "Shall we draw a bullseye on some poultry, perhaps?"

The man—Sir Horth—grinned. "I'm sure a servant can carry a target fast enough for our needs." When Arthur frowned, he cocked his head cheekily. "Afraid you can't do it? Sire?" The title was tacked on to the end, almost like an insult, and the prince felt his blood quicken in irritation. Without another word, he strode to the side, where the usual gathering of commoners was watching.

"You!" The boy indicated jumped at being singled out, and paled dramatically when told what was expected of him. Reluctantly, he took the target and began to shuffle sideways.

"Faster!" Horth called, and Arthur felt his dislike of the man shoot up a notch. Silently, he turned back to the boy—running jerkily now—and drew back his arm, knife in hand.

"What on _earth_ do you think you're doing?"

The voice came abruptly from the sidelines, and everyone stopped their activities and turned, as one, towards the source. Arthur gave a mental, but no less heartfelt, groan when he saw the culprit.

The young sorcerer stepped into the field with a scowl on his face and his hands on his hips. "Would you like to explain what that was? Because it _looked_ like you were about to throw a dagger at that boy! I suppose you can give me an explanation?"

Shock, Arthur reflected, was undoubtedly the only reason no one spoke up.

"I get that you're ridiculously arrogant, puffed up with pride, confident in your skill… I'll even concede that if you threw that knife, you _probably_ wouldn't have hurt anyone." The boy had a pained look on his face, like he found even this small admittance distasteful.

"_But,"_ he continued with a glare, "you don't have the right to gamble someone else's _life_ on your abilities. What if a bird dive-bombed you when you were throwing and messed up your aim? What if someone shouted at you and made you lose concentration? What if you _missed_?"

Arthur glanced at his companions uncomfortably. Now that he thought of it… but this was a sorcerer, dang it! Of course he was lying!

Said sorcerer got a glint in his eye.

"You know what," he said with sarcasm dripping from every word, "maybe I'm being unfair. You're knights of Camelot! It's vital to the safety of the kingdom that you can hit a moving target. Maybe I should make up for ruining your practice."

There was a lot of uncertain mumblings at that declaration. Arthur frowned. What could this mean? More importantly, why hadn't someone apprehended the magician by now?

"I know just how to apologize," the boy said with an unseemly smirk. "You can throw your fancy little knives at me instead! In fact, I'll make the deal sweeter—anyone who hits me can take me to the dungeons as they please!"

Several knights perked up at this. Uther had been highly disappointed when no trace of the sorcerer could be found after the interrupted execution. Further rage had been incurred when the chopping block had been found in the library, innocently holding a vase of flowers and refusing to budge. If the culprit could be apprehended, perhaps some faith could be restored in the knights.

The ringing silence left by the announcement was broken when Sir Horth scowled and flung a knife at the boy. It was essentially ineffective, for the raven-haired young man just flashed his eyes gold and the blade stopped mid-rotation before falling to the earth.

"You have to wait until I start moving," the sorcerer scolded before beginning to skip in a circle around the knights.

If an outsider happened upon the scene, they would have found it quite comical: a lanky, large-eared teenager skipping around a group of tall, brawny knights, all cursing furiously and throwing daggers at him only to be thwarted by magic.

It was almost an hour before the boy seemed to tire of his game. With a wave of his hand, all of the blades vanished, reappearing on the weapons racks on the sidelines. It was an almost regretful look that slid onto his face as he stopped skipping, but the knights were all too happy to have an excuse to stop.

A slight smile could be made out as the mysterious young man gave his parting words.

"You all look tired, don't you? I hope the practice was worth it." No one missed the double meaning there.

"Oh, and for the record…"

Arthur held his breath. Surely there couldn't be _more_?

"My name's Emrys."

Then, he disappeared.

* * *

A/N: _My minions, while bringing forth this chapter, I sensed a beast of unspeakable horror approaching: a PLOT! Yes, this story may evolve to be more than crack! Be faithful little minions and review to give me your thoughts on this unforseen development._


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: _Oops... I don't know how that happened! There were a few internet problems, and the changes I made to the document must not have been saved before I posted this chapter the first time! Sorry..._

_DISCLAIMER: I own OTHING-NAY!_

* * *

The Court Physician's chambers were inordinately busy on the day Camelot encountered Emrys for the third time.

Gaius heard it all from the young servant boy who'd come to him for cold medicine. Apparently, King Uther had just greeted the Lady Helen when the same boy who'd stolen the execution block and harassed the knights for an hour materialized in front of him.

Naturally, guards were immediately surrounding the sorcerer, but were ignored. Said sorcerer proceeded to declare that the visiting singer was actually a homicidal witch before disappearing once more.

The Court Physician was disgruntled, and not afraid to show it when his ward walked casually through the door.

"Merlin, you really can't go accusing guests like that!" The words were out of Gaius' mouth before he got a proper look at his nephew. When he did, he groaned.

"Is that pie from the kitchens?"

"Well," answered Merlin absently as he took another bite, "I'm sure it was _originally_ from the kitchens, but _I_ got it from the king's table. The prince's plate, if I remember correctly."

"Merlin—"

"And I _can_ go accusing guests like that, actually. Not one of those brawny knights can stop me!"

"But you have no _proof_!"

"So? If I had proof, they'd just say I faked it with my evil magical powers!"

Glaring with exasperation at the young warlock, Gaius was reminded of the day, over a week ago, that brought Merlin to his care.

xx)0(xx

The door slammed with a bang, shocking Gaius as he stepped onto his ladder. Quickly getting down, he turned to the entrance to find a dark young man striding angrily towards his table.

"Who're—"

"Merlin, Hunith's son, the letter's here." The boy violently brandished a piece of paper at Gaius, who took it before anything could be knocked down. A chair made a noise of protest as the young man—Merlin—sat down with considerable force.

Quickly scanning the letter, Gaius looked up at Merlin. He was muttering with a brooding expression on his face.

"May I ask what's upset you?" the older man asked, uncomfortably aware of the probable cause.

"I've just been to the library," Merlin said instead of answering. "They have some new furniture. A little bloodstained, and they might have some trouble moving it, but so what?" He threw down his pack with a scowl. "It has a better use there than where it was before!"

Gaius sighed. "You saw the execution."

"I saw what _would_ have been an execution. Naturally, I stepped in."

The physician's blood ran cold. "You—"

"Saved an innocent man from dying, yes."

"Tell me you didn't use magic," Gaius pleaded with dread.

"And why shouldn't I?"

"It's punishable by death!"

"What are they going to do? I can deflect arrows, I can teleport out of the way of swords, and if they ever manage to get me to the pyre, I can control the fire! Why should I go without magic?"

Gaius sat down, brow creased. When he'd heard Hunith's son was coming to stay, this was _not_ what he'd expected.

"Didn't your mother teach you to keep your magic hidden?"

Merlin snorted. "She tried, I suppose, but I was floating things and stopping time as an _infant_."

There was an impressively raised eyebrow at this, but Gaius kept silent as Merlin continued.

"How do you tell an infant to stop his favorite game when company's over? The whole town knew pretty fast. Thankfully, it's not illegal in Cenred's Kingdom."

Gaius tried again. "But it's illegal _here_!"

"Back then, I wasn't strong enough to keep myself and my mother safe if someone decided to kill us. But since I didn't have to hide it, I got a lot of practice. Got a few visiting druids to teach me when they passed through, and I did a bit of experimenting on my own. Now, there's not a thing those idiots could do to me."

Staring, Gaius tried to understand the young man before him. "Wouldn't it be _easier_ to not have people trying to kill you all the time, though?"

Merlin sighed and sank back in his chair. "Would it be easier? Yes. But I don't just _use_ magic, Gaius. I _am_ magic, according to the druids. It wouldn't just be like putting a tool away for a little while. Would you ask me to hide my identity?"

The boy looked at his hands, twisting them before him. "It would be nice for people to look at me and not be afraid. Nice to go to market without staring and a few death threats. But I'd rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I am not."

Merlin looked up, a fierce look on his face. "I _am_ Merlin, Hunith's son. But I am also Mryddin Emrys, and I won't pretend otherwise."

* * *

A/N:_ So, Merlin knows he's Emrys(because of the visiting Druids) and is more accepting of his DESTINY._

_IMPORTANT! REPEAT! IMPORTANT!_

_So, in the next chapter, 'Lady Helen' will attack Arthur because Uther tried to kill her son. Merlin, of course, will save him-but this time, everyone will know he uses magic. Will this change Uther's attitude towards magic? Will it change Arthur's? I have an idea of where I want this to go, but tell me what YOU think!_

_Also, I'm thinking my reasoning behind the title of this story is kinda... random? And by that I mean there is no reason behind it. Tell me any ideas for a new title, too!_


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